


Rain Will Make the Flowers Grow

by Nebbles



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Lost Love, M/M, no recruitment runs hurt me so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24738370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebbles/pseuds/Nebbles
Summary: Over the beating of his heart did Lorenz hear a slight whine, a noise that indicated hope was not lost yet.The name was unable to fall from his lips as he knelt to slowly take the man’s body into his arms, and gave no attempt to mask the worry in his eyes.“L...Lorenz…?” Ferdinand was dying. The bolt tore a wound into his side, and his steed had fallen to the ground. The resulting shock wave must have hurt him further.  “I… is that you?”-----Lorenz had tried to prepare himself for all aspects of war.He did not expect the heavy heart Myrddin would saddle him with.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir & Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, Ferdinand von Aegir/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester & Ignatz Victor
Comments: 20
Kudos: 33





	Rain Will Make the Flowers Grow

When the dust settled over the bloodstained cobblestone of Myrddin, when the cacophony of steel came to a disquieting silence, Lorenz found himself scanning over the throng of Imperial soldiers for survivors. His eyes caught a familiar shade of sunset, of a man he had never wished to see on the other side of the war, despite the fact he had hailed from Adrestia. Perhaps he could overcome the cruel whims of fate, bring this man to safety, far from those who wished to bring him harm.

Earlier in the fray, he had heard the cry of the ballista. Lorenz flung a Bolganone spell at a wayward soldier who foolishly charged in his direction as his eyes followed its curve, towards the sun, towards _him._ His nose wrinkled as the smell of blood and burnt flesh permeated the once warm spring air, stomach lodged in his throat. 

His steed came to a halt, whinnying as she trotted backwards, not wishing to travel through the bodies in their wake.

“It is alright, Elizabeth,” Lorenz murmured as he slowly climbed off, “I can handle it from here. There is just someone I am hoping to find. I shall return to you shortly.” 

From the little Lorenz was able to glean in the earlier chaos, only a single arrow had first attempted to pierce the sun’s rays, to dull its shine sweeping across the battlefield. 

Hardly did he enjoy stepping over corpses, how blood of faceless bodies began to cling to his boots. Each footstep felt heavier than the last. Lorenz hardly lost himself in his nerves such as this, hardly allowed fear to swim so freely.

Was it wise to tread unfamiliar waters, to where an enemy could appear from the shadows and end his life with a swift stroke of a blade? It was easy to imagine the professor or Claude chiding him for such a foolish notion, but idling was not something Lorenz wished to do. He could fashion an excuse for how this was checking for survivors, and in reality, it was. 

Only this one didn’t hail from the Alliance.

Over the beating of his heart did Lorenz hear a slight whine, a noise that indicated hope was not lost yet.

The name was unable to fall from his lips as he knelt to slowly take the man’s body into his arms, and gave no attempt to mask the worry in his eyes.

“L...Lorenz…?” Ferdinand was dying. The bolt tore a wound into his side, and his steed had fallen to the ground. The resulting shock wave must have hurt him further. “I… is that you?”

“I’m here, Ferdinand.” Lorenz brushed some hair from his eyes, and tried to ignore how such soft locks (at least he imagined they felt such a way) were splattered with crimson. “I apologize for not arriving sooner.”

Ferdinand’s eyes looked so hazy as they blinked up at Lorenz. “You… you have nothing to apologize for. I am glad to see you here.”

He gave a soft murmur of a healing spell, and once the soft buzz of white magic coursed through his veins, Lorenz hovered his hand over the wound. “Remain still.” He had only trained so little in faith, not to the level of Marianne and the professor, but Lorenz could not sit here and do nothing. “Let me help you. Please.” 

In the recesses of his mind, Lorenz knew Ferdinand was gone. Wound too grievous, too much blood lost as it painted the bridge in a sickening shade of crimson. Perhaps it would be alright to play the role of a fool, just this once, if it meant he could take Ferdinand back to the monastery with him. He would rest on Elizabeth, recover in the infirmary, and Lorenz would address every unspoken feeling that had laid dormant in his heart for the past five years.

Lorenz wished he could turn back the cruel hands of time, back to five years ago. To convince him to stray from Edelgard’s side, to find solace in the banner of the Golden Deer. He would have upheld the promise made on the night of the ball (the ball Lorenz had so desperately wished to ask him to) to meet at the monastery the day of the Millennium Festival. Happily, he would have complimented him on his appearance, how beautiful he had become, and there was so much for them to discuss.

He would have invited Ferdinand into his quarters, and perhaps would have discovered how soft his lips were, and if he tasted of tea.

Perhaps the only shame that lied here was Lorenz’s cowardice. 

"Do not waste your energy on me,” a shaky hand placed itself over Lorenz’s, and attempted to offer a squeeze, “I know… I know I do not have much time left.”

“No,” came Lorenz’s reply, who muttered the spell again with haste, “you cannot die here, Ferdinand. There is so much you have yet to accomplish. There is so much I wish to see you do.” 

Lorenz wished for this to be naught but a cruel trick of the Goddess. For someone who had never quite believed in religion, who had only offered prayers out of so-called noble duty, he could not help but recite one in his head, hoping that it would somehow save the other’s life. If she could let Ferdinand remain here, Lorenz would offer piety every day. 

In his desperation, Lorenz attempted the spell over and over, until his hand could no longer glow with magic. It was not often failure followed his actions, and it stung to think of all times, it would happen now. It was less often that tears pricked the corner of his eyes as well, and despite his best efforts, Lorenz could not hold them back.

“Oh…” Ferdinand’s voice was so small. “Lorenz, please… I hardly wish to see you weep.”

It was never easy to cry in front of others. Under different circumstances, Lorenz would argue this would tarnish his pride. However, with each slowed passing of Ferdinand’s breath, he could not help to have tears stain his cheeks, to have his breath hitch uncomfortably in his throat.

“Forgive me,” he clasped his hand around Ferdinand’s, “I wish I could offer you a sight that is worthy of someone such as yourself.”

“Do not say such a thing,” Ferdinand murmured, “to see you before I die… that is a blessing in its own right.”

  
  
How was Ferdinand able to smile? Was it unfair of him to be unable to offer anything in return?

“Lorenz,” he managed, “I… may I ask something of you?”

Unable to will himself to speak, Lorenz gave a nod. 

“You will always remember me, will you not?” It was spoken so softly, so weakly. 

Whatever was left of his heart pooled into the waters below.

“I shall never forget you, Ferdinand.” This, he could keep his voice steady for. “I know that I will cherish all the times we spent together. I… I will remember the very words we shared, and to better Fodlan for you. For us. I will honor you with every action that I take for the Alliance.”

“Thank you, Lorenz.” These were to be his last words, and in a bout of selfishness, Lorenz was glad his name was the last thing Ferdinand was to utter. There were some comforts in the smile he had tried to offer Lorenz, their hands threaded together.

In Lorenz’s arms laid a fallen angel, his wings clipped and soaked in blood. Beauty was not found in Ferdinand’s death, but in the memories they shared together, countless as the freckles that were scattered upon his face.

When Ferdinand’s breathing came to a standstill, Lorenz held him close and began to weep in full, his mind unable to focus on anything else but _hurt._ Ferdinand was dead. Myrddin was not a nightmare -- or rather it was, and it had shaped into a tangible form, shaped into the body of the man Lorenz loved.

He did not notice the footsteps behind him, the ones that belonged to his allies, who could only look away in silence.

A mention of a proper burial was said, any words after lost to the ringing in Lorenz’s ears.

  
  


\---

With confidence, Lorenz could not say he remembered the march back to the monastery. In the blink of an eye, he had been transported from Myrddin to the graveyard, where they held a short memorial service for Ferdinand. Did he give a eulogy? Did he stand there and weep until he was the only one present? He blinked again, and found himself in his room, the air still.

He ran a hand through his hair, and discovered that it was damp. Had it been raining? A cursory glance told him that there was not a single cloud in the sky. The faint smell of shampoo followed, and Lorenz nearly gave a pained laugh. How did he not remember the simple action of bathing? Was he so quick to cast himself as broken, unable to cope with the death of one out many out of the countless bodies that would be lost to this war?

They would not be Ferdinand, however. Former classmates would lose their lives to this war, and he would mourn for them. But he could hardly lie to himself; Lorenz knew they would not shatter his heart this way. 

The world felt so different. 

Lorenz closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and opened them once more. Ferdinand was never to join him for tea in this room once more, and the phantom of his memory was all there was left to cling to.

Ferdinand had such hopes for the future, for what he could do to succeed and exceed his father. For what he could do for all of Adrestia and his territory, and how it would flourish under his guidance. How Lorenz promised to aid him, to visit as often as he could, and how the sentiment was returned with a smile.

How hollow Lorenz’s heart felt.

Unable to stay still, Lorenz found his fingers tracing over the patterns on his armor, eyes focused on the rose that adorned it.

_‘Perhaps in the future, Ferdinand, I can show you the gardens that line my estate. You will be able to witness all of Gloucester’s beauty, with roses planted by yours truly!’_

How bitter that promise tasted on his tongue.

It was hardly late in the evening, with the sun just beginning to set. Gentle hues of orange and reds filtered through his window as they cast a warm gaze across his room, melting onto his bed and floor. Could he force himself to move, perhaps he would find the others in the dining hall. Eating together was something their group found solace in, enjoying company, no matter if their laughter or silence filled the room.

Surely, they wouldn’t be surprised at his absence. It was to be expected, was it not? They were rather adept at noting each other’s actions and needs, whatever situation was to occur. Being blessed with wonderful friends was a thing to remember in times such as these. 

His eyes traveled to the sunset, taking in a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. 

Death was common in war. One could repeat that phrase to themselves until blue in the face, trying to justify the young bodies being buried into the ground, never to open their eyes. It was tiring to try and justify it. Losing himself to grief would hardly be beneficial, and yet the urge to cry threatened him once more.

Was that all he could do, lie down and cry until the next call to action was?

Was that all war entailed? How long would these thoughts plague him?

He’d half a mind to rest early, to try and process Myrddin, to attempt to not lose himself in pain once more.

  
A soft knock came from his door, much to his shock. Who would be wishing to speak with him…? It would be rude to ignore them, even if he was to send them away, simply saying he wished to be alone.

He didn’t expect Ignatz to be at the other side of the door, a tea tray in his hands, a meek smile on his face.

“I figured if anyone saw you, it’d be someone who understands how you’re feeling.” Ah. That made sense. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” Lorenz stepped to the side, softly shutting the door behind them both. Saints, how he hated to remember Ignatz’s heart had been shattered as well. 

Ashe was too sweet, too earnest to have the fires of Ailell consume his being. 

He elected to pour the tea for Ignatz, who quietly took his seat across from Lorenz. His hands fiddled with nothing in particular as he focused on the tea cups. Lorenz took note of the pattern, how the cups were a delicate white, pink delicately scalloped around the rim. Once the tea was poured, the delicate aroma of roses began to fill the air. Subtle and sweet, the dark red of the tea complementing the cups quite well.

“Your aesthetic eye is fantastic as always.” Lorenz handed him the other teacup. “I see our conversation from five years ago has not been lost on you.”

“Thank you.” There was a gentle smile upon his lips. “I remembered rose was your favorite. And I knew you wouldn’t be present at dinner, so… even if I am not the best company…”

“Nonsense.” To see his confidence shaken once more was heartbreaking. “The fact you came to check up on me speaks volumes, Ignatz.”

“Honestly, I was too nervous to approach you on my own. Raphael suggested this would be good for us both.” It hardly was a surprise he was worried about them both, given the nature of their friendship. Raphael and Ignatz had an unshakable bond after five years of worry (due to _him_ and his _father_ and his _greed_ but Lorenz tried not to focus on that) and he’d been slowly welcomed as another close friend. “Surely you knew I didn’t want to fight Ashe.” 

He couldn’t bring himself to speak, and just gave a slow nod. 

Everyone remembered how he wept over Ashe’s limp body after the dust had settled. 

“I can’t even begin to speak of how sorry I am.” Tentatively, he reached out a hand to place on Ignatz’s shoulder. “I had hoped for the best.”

Would it be cruel to say they would have made a fine couple? Ignatz did not need to speak of his feelings; Lorenz could tell by his tone. It felt as if that were nothing more than a taunt, offering a taste of happiness he never could have. Fate was unkind to them both, stripping away the rosy glow of a first love.

Ignatz shook his head. “I deluded myself. When Ashe didn’t come back to the monastery, I… I don’t know. I thought we would come across him if Faerghus needed our aid. I didn’t expect for him to--for this--”

The way his voice cracked caused Lorenz’s heart to twist.

“War is a rather fickle beast, is it not?” It was sufficient to say he did not expect to see the other at Ailell, nor did he expect his death to follow. “I know that is not the most comforting of sentiments, but to think this conflict has taken so much from us…”

After five years of turmoil, Lorenz had foolishly hoped for a positive turn around when they had reunited at the monastery. If they were all alive, surely they could piece together a future where their former classmates would still be breathing. A fear, one that was beginning to fester within his heart, whispered to Lorenz that Ashe and Ferdinand’s death were the first of many. The future of the Kingdom and Empire fell with each student that was once proud to wield their banner.

Oh, how Lorenz hated it so.

The glint of fine porcelain caught Lorenz’s eyes as they drifted to the shelves in his room. Dusted to a pristine shine, the very tea set that Ferdinand bequeathed to him looks as though it had not aged a day. When the monastery fell, amidst all the chaos and rubble, Lorenz had kept it close, to carry it to Gloucester, a reminder of happier times. He did not once fill it with tea, thinking that such an occasion should be saved for his and Ferdinand’s chance reunion.

Lorenz did not want it to accrue dust. That would be an insult to Ferdinand’s honor, his very life, to the man he’d lost his heart to over the gentle waft of Seiros tea. 

It dawned upon him that Lorenz was beginning to hate his father.

Had he not bent Gloucester’s knee to the Empire, Myrddin would not be a bloodstained memory. Perhaps had it been staunchly defended by the Alliance, an Imperial army wouldn’t have been stationed there.

Ferdinand would not have found himself among its casualties. 

To think he had spent years detesting Claude, listening to that man’s vile lies that he was untrustworthy, that _every_ step he took was deemed noble, was deemed fit to inherit Gloucester, was what he should pride himself on…

What pride was there in watching the man he loved die upon the ground his father thought was worth protecting? How could he feel good about himself, relying on groveling at his feet for him to support the Alliance, only after they had witnessed such carnage?

Why was he forced to stand by and watch, playing the role of a helpless fool?

  
“Lorenz?”

Ignatz’s gentle concern was what snapped Lorenz out of his stupor, to realize the wetness running down his cheeks.

“I… forgive me, Ignatz. I am acting as a rather poor host.” There lied an attempt to wipe at his eyes, his breathing unsteady. “You came here to seek comfort, and I am acting rather selfish.”

“Selfish?” Ignatz set down his cup of tea with a frown as he followed Lorenz’s gaze. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“It is not as if I am the only one who lost someone they loved.” Still fixated upon the porcelain, Lorenz let another tear make its way down his cheek. “I wish I had told him. This tea set all I have left of his memory.”

A sharp intake of breath was heard, followed by a shaky sigh of Ignatz’s own.

“Ashe had lent me one of his favorite books, before the monastery was attacked.” Lorenz didn’t look over, not yet. “I wished to return it to him, had he come back with us. Maybe we could have talked about it over tea, and perhaps I could have confessed.” Ignatz swallowed thickly, and went to wipe at his eyes. “You are right, Lorenz. I loved him as well.”

“I know he wouldn’t want me to cry like this. Ashe was so strong, so very brave…” It was just a terrible shame how he lost his life. “I can’t help but to let myself hurt, and… I don’t think it’s wrong to.”

Lorenz wished to say he could agree with those sentiments, that he could allow himself to cry over Ferdinand, over a tea set he would care for until the last of his days. Yet he could not say he carried Ignatz’s strength, that inner will to accept the pain as long as deemed necessary. Fortitude was something he felt as though he lacked, that if he possessed such will, he could have convinced his father to never give way to the Empire.

“How wise you have grown,” Lorenz commended, “and how I wish I could find inner strength as you have.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw how I was before all of this.” Ignatz tried to offer something of a smile, pained as it was. “When we had returned from Ailell, I had locked myself away from others, not wishing for them to see me in such a state.”

Remembering how he had not seen Ignatz for a good week after that day, Lorenz felt worse somehow, having dared to compare the two of them.

“I had Raphael visit me, and then Marianne…” He reached out to place a hand over Lorenz’s, after he had wiped away more tears, “I had reminders that no matter how broken my heart was, I was not alone, even if I felt as though I was.”

Unsure of what else to offer, another wave of tears began to make their way down Lorenz’s cheeks. He tried to bite back a sob, and found himself unable to. Ignatz was quick to pull the other into his arms, and went to cradle Lorenz’s head against his shoulder. 

  
“It’s alright to cry,” he gave a sigh, “trust me, I’m not a fan of how it feels either. But you’ll feel better if you’re honest with yourself. I had to learn that lesson myself more than once.”

Instead of attempting to speak, Lorenz found it easier to let himself cry. When was the last time he had surrendered himself to such sadness, to such terrible pain that threatened to have him weep until his throat was worn and raw? Even when he had begged Raphael and Ignatz for the simple blessing of forgiveness for his father’s actions, he did not weep so. What his father committed in the past was not his fault, and that Lorenz was able to accept.

Not wanting to burden his mind further, he allowed himself to stop _thinking_ , and let this round of sadness pass as he found comfort in Ignatz’s arms. Even if it felt like ages crawled by until the pain stopped, until the world came into focus, Lorenz found himself able to breathe. 

He was going to be alright.

“Ignatz, may I ask something of you?” Lorenz’s voice was slightly muffled from how he was buried into the other’s shoulder.

“Of course, Lorenz.” It was comforting to have him still here, after baring his soul in such a manner. Even had Ignatz done the same, to think they could bond over heartache… 

“May you paint a portrait of Ferdinand for me?” It was asked softly, almost worried as if such a request will be rejected. “I do not wish to forget what he looked like, and I… I just wish for something else to remember him by.”

Ignatz pulled away from their hug, able to offer a small smile. “I would be honored to. Perhaps I should paint Ashe as well. I’m sure it’s the least I can do for his memory.”

“You are the most gifted artist I have ever come across, Ignatz.” Lorenz found it a difficult task to return the smile, but he was glad such a feat was manageable. “I… I cannot think of a more capable person to replicate Ferdinand’s beauty.” 

No other man could capture the sun such as he did. No other man had freckles that danced upon sunkissed skin, eyes bright and full of fire, a smile and laugh that carried all the warmth in the world. Ferdinand outshone the very Goddess herself, and Lorenz did not care what a blasphemous statement that was. 

“Ashe was beautiful too, you know,” Ignatz began with a sigh, “I swore I always saw the constellations in his freckles, the way I would compare the silver of his hair to the gentle moonlight… I found him absolutely breathtaking.”

Lorenz could hear the way Ignatz’s heart ached with each word, how _painfully_ his heart ached, yearning for a romance that would never be. He did not think the two had much in common, aside from a shared aesthetic eye. This was a terribly cruel thing to bond over, the lament of a lost love, the regret that came along with contemplation of every what if they could consider. In a better life, the four of them could have enjoyed many a conversation over tea, and the simple thought was enough to make Lorenz’s own heart hurt.

“When I looked upon Ferdinand, I swear as if I saw the very sun before me.” No, he did not wish to cry further, but an outlet for the pain felt needed. “I could not count the times I got lost in his eyes, or the way I became enchanted by his smile. Even his voice offered me comforts, no matter how foolish the matter was that had upset me. Had I realized…”

Lorenz found himself unable to finish that sentence. Had he realized what, exactly -- his father’s conditioning that made him search for a bride blinded him to his attraction to men? That when the ball fell upon them, he should have asked Ferdinand to swear an oath at the Goddess Tower? 

Would that have saved him?

When he went to wipe at his eyes once more, Ignatz moved to take one of his hands in his, and offered it a light squeeze. “Lorenz, may I offer you a piece of advice? If that’s alright, that is.”

There were still some tears in Ignatz’s eyes, Lorenz noticed. He gave a slow nod, and attempted to take in a breath to center himself.

“When you spoke to Raphael and I about what your father did to his parents…” Oh. _Oh._ “I thought about your words for some time. I had nearly given up on our friendship due to the guilt I felt. And now, knowing it wasn’t my fault… the relief that gave me was what I needed. And I know it helped Raphael, too.” He took some time to swallow thickly, taking in a deep breath of his own. “You have to remember that Ferdinand’s death wasn’t your fault, just as Ashe’s wasn’t mine.”

“I know it feels easier to hurt, and I know I’m going to miss him for a long time, but I also know Ashe would want me to move on.” When did Ignatz get so strong? He had grown so far beyond the meek boy Lorenz had wished to coax out of his shell. “You aren’t the type to give up, Lorenz. Ferdinand wouldn’t want that for you either.”

Lorenz found himself quiet for moments after Ignatz’s speech as he began to lightly brush his thumb over the other’s hand. Ferdinand would wish for him to continue to carry the Alliance into greatness, to take it from under the cruel thumb of his father, to let it prosper for nobles and commonfolk alike. Much had to be done after this war reached its end, and the fate of the Alliance did rest upon his shoulders. Tired as they were, Lorenz did not wish for them to sag just yet.

Recovery would take time; that was perhaps the most obvious statement to be spoken. Lorenz would never again see Ferdinand’s eyes shine or his smile, but his memory could still live on. Ferdinand’s legacy would carry into every cup of tea poured, every polish of the set Lorenz was gifted so long ago. He would live on with every reform, every policy that would push the Alliance towards a better, more accepting future. 

“Ignatz, may I offer you something in return?” It wasn’t advice Lorenz had to offer, but it still carried great importance. “I would hate not to give back some kindness to you after such a gesture.”

“It’s not necessary, but I know you won’t take no for an answer.” Ignatz gave a slight shake of his head. “I just came here to help a friend.”

“Some time ago, I had proposed the idea of taking you into my service, to be able to continue your artistic talents while working for a noble house, to satisfy your family.” And given they were in the age of defying what their parents were pushing onto him, it felt prudent to ask this. “I still wish to take you in, but not as a knight. I simply wish for you to offer your aesthetic eye to the Alliance. I would pay you handsomely for every piece.”

“L-Lorenz, that’s…” Ignatz’s jaw almost dropped, blinking rapidly in response. “I couldn’t just ask that of you. I wouldn’t… that hardly feels fair.”

Lorenz shook his head, gripping Ignatz’s hand firmly. “I know you do not wish to fight anymore, and I could not ask you to be a knight in good conscience. Who says you cannot be an artist for House Gloucester? If you wish for me to back your family’s business, I could do that as well.”

Ignatz looked as if he were about to faint. “I…”

“You do not have to answer immediately. I suppose this is a roundabout way of asking you to keep in touch after the war, and remain close so we can continue to have chats such as these.” One idle conversation (was that really the correct word? Idle?) over tea would not ease the pain in their souls. “I must repay you for the portrait of Ferdinand I asked for, after all. It would be selfish not to, especially when you are still working through pain of your own. If nothing else, Ignatz, please let me do this for you.”

It took Ignatz a few minutes to find his voice. “I don’t know if I can comfortably accept your money for this--not after I’ve seen how much losing Ferdinand has hurt you.”

“Nonsense. You are giving me a gift, Ignatz, one that I know no one else can.” He could say this. He must. “Ferdinand asked that I never forget him, and that is a promise I refuse to break. I cannot; I owe him that much. That is why I have asked such an important task, and that I can trust you with this. Such a blessing may be priceless, and yet… how could I not return such selflessness?”

“You don’t owe me at all for this. I promise I’ll let you pay double for the next painting you ask of me.” Again, Ignatz was able to offer him a smile. “I want to do this for you because you’re a friend of mine. Friends don’t need a reason to do nice things for each other.”

It was here Lorenz realized while fairly close with his fellow house, he did not consider any of them close friends. Given how most of them were commoners, or how he tried to use the other nobles to give honor to his house, he’d never gotten to closely know any of them. He was working to undo this selfish degree, to right his wrongs, and Ignatz was the first one to regard him with a warm smile and that one word Lorenz never quite thought he would hear.

Friend.

“I suppose I still have much to learn in that regard.” Lorenz knew he would never stop improving, and especially not now. Not only for his sake, but to honor the oath he and Ferdinand shared. “I shall accept your gesture of kindness, and continue to offer my own, because you are a dear friend to me. Perhaps we can continue to meet for tea, and learn to heal together.”

“I like the sound of that. It’s comforting to know I have someone to turn to.” It was a shame the tea’s run cold by now, to have the rest of the pot go to waste, but this moment was necessary. “I have to believe we’ll get through this.” 

Lorenz’s gaze returned to the porcelain once more. “We shall do whatever is possible to carry them with us, and continue to honor their memory. It would make them proud, would it not?”

“I know they’re with the Goddess, and watching over us, offering their protection.” Ignatz placed a hand over his heart. “They’ll see us to the end of this war.”

“And we will do all we are able to fulfill our promises to them.” Lorenz knew he’d still hurt; there would still be days spent mourning, and the anniversary of Ferdinand’s death would haunt him. “Perhaps there is something I can do to assist Aegir territory, when I am given the time.” That way, he could see to Ferdinand’s wishes as well. “...Thank you, Ignatz. I feel as though a weight from my heart has lifted.”

“I’m glad I was able to help.” The two shared another embrace, any remaining tears finally gone. “My chest feels much lighter as well. It’s nice to feel hopeful again, actually. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like.”

It was a terrible thing to admit, but Lorenz couldn’t help but relate to the tears that laid across Ignatz’s heart. Had the other not come to visit, it was possible he may have slipped into further despair. He would have felt so lost, so very alone, unable to cope with the guilt clawing at his soul. Yet, Ignatz’s visit, and Claude’s urging of everyone to get some rest reminded Lorenz of something: he wasn’t alone. This wasn’t some unsurmountable task he had to work around on his own, to carve out a path with his own two hands.

Ignatz wasn’t his only friend, and the rest of his class, alongside the professor, wished to see him well. They would wish to see him unseat his father, and do what is best for his territory and the rest of the Alliance.

Lorenz knew he could allow himself to cling to hope. “We shall not lose to our unkind emotions, Ignatz. I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, swear to such a feat this very moment.”

Ignatz gave a soft laugh into his shoulder at this statement. “That’s very like you. I know we’ll be able to get through this together.”

For what felt like the first time in ages, though it had only been a day or so, Lorenz was able to smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, make sure to leave a comment/kudos! If you want to hear about future works and rambles, make sure to follow me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/that_nebbles)


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